Hotel ee/The Escape
You are driving just under the speed limit with one eye on the road ahead and one on the mirror. It's only six o'clock but it's already dark and pouring with rain. On the back seat of your Range Rover, the two children Sam and Julie sit, white faced and holding hands. Other drivers are getting impatient with you so you pull over into an entrance so they can get past.
"Are you okay," you ask when you turn your head. They both nod. "I think we are safe now and I need to stop for a rest," you say as you put the car into drive and pull back onto the road.
A few miles further on, you spot a sign for a hotel and turn into the entrance. There is quite a long drive with big trees on both sides making it even darker until you end up in a dimly lit car park. "Wait there, you say as you lock the car and walk up the steps into a spacious hotel lobby. You are just about to ring the bell at the reception desk, when a young woman appears.
"Do you have a reservation?"
"No, but I wondered if you had a family room available for tonight? Just me and the two children."
She fires up her computer. "I can do a twin," she says. "Can the children share?" Naturally she assumes that you are their father and you say nothing to disillusion her.
"I'm sure we can sort something out. I'll take it," you say. You pull out the wallet and give her a credit card. The address you give her is real enough, and the name matches the one on the card, even though it's not yours.
Back at the car, you give the kids the good news, look at the bags in the back but decide they are too heavy to take upstairs. You just grab your briefcase and lead them in. "The dining room's open if you want a meal," the receptionist says. You book a table for three in an hour.
The room is nice enough, with two double beds, a two-seater couch, and all the usual facilities. and we all stand in the middle looking round. "How are we gonna manage," Sam says, looking at the two beds for three people.
You shrug. "Up to you. You can come in with me, or you two can share."
"We haven't got any night things," Sam says, sitting down on the edge of the bed nearest the door. Julie goes into the bathroom and locks the door behind her.
"We'll find a shop tomorrow. Soap and stuff will be provided and I guess we can manage without brushing our teeth for one night," you say. sitting beside the boy and putting an arm around his shoulder.
Julie comes out and you look her up and down. Her chestnut hair is cut short. She is wearing a white T-shirt and denim shorts that look pretty tight on her. White socks and some kind of fancy trainers cover her feet. "Here," you say and offer her the hairbrush from your overnight kit.
Sam uses the bathroom as well and you send him back to wash his hands. He is wearing a football shirt and shorts. Some team you never heard of, but young boys can get away with stuff like that. He has trainers too, but no visible socks. It's your turn in the bathroom and your growling stomach takes priority over a shower. After a quick shower you look in the full length mirror and are not impressed. Forty years old and already getting a bald patch. At least you are fairly fit and your incipient paunch hardly shows. Your suit looks crumpled, but at least your shoes are shiny.
"Let's go and see what the dining room is like," you say.
You find a table in a corner, away from any of the few other diners. The kids opt for burgers and chips and you have steak and salad with a bottle of decent wine to wash it down. The card will have to go after tomorrow's shopping expedition, so you may as well push the boat out.
No one seems to be taking any notice of a middle-aged man with two well-behaved children so you begin to relax. "Maybe we will get away with it," you think.
"Do you think dad will be okay," Julie asks.
You try to reassure her, although you strongly suspect that he is not. "I expect he'll get in touch when we find your mother," you say.
"Can I try some wine," Sam asks. They both have some kind of cola and their glasses are empty. You shrug and splash a measure into each of their glasses. They sip it, but Bordeaux's finest obviously doesn't really appeal.
Back in the room, they plonk themselves down on the couch to watch TV and you feel confident enough to leave them to it and go back down to the bar. You raise your glass of single malt in salute to the owner of the card that's paying for it and consider your options.
That morning (was it only twelve hours ago?) you were woken by your phone. Your brother pleaded with you to grab the kids and get them away. It seemed that "Lucky" Jack's luck had run out. The man in the next room didn't even wake up as you slipped the needle into his neck. His wallet was on the night stand with his car keys. It would be hours before he woke up, if he did.
You had already rousted the kids and they were stumbling about, bleary-eyed, getting dressed and you led them down what would have been the servant's stairs at the back and out into the car whose lights flashed when you clicked the fob. Your only luggage was the briefcase you always kept handy with a few toiletries, a change of socks and a couple of thousand in cash Tomorrow you will ditch the car and the credit card after using it to give you all a new look. After that, it would be cash all the way.